Pics to Fics
by Mouse9
Summary: It started with one piece of art... All of the following stories are inspired by the amazing artwork of M0nylove17 on DeviantArt or Mikosarthouse on Tumblr. Honestly, the art gives me life. I will add the prompt that explains what each piece/fic is about.
1. Cuddling

**AN** : This is the story that started it all. If you've never seen it, it's a piece with a teenager/young adult Arnold sleeping on Helga's lap while she reads a book. I'm over simplifying it but it truly is a beautiful piece. It hit me at just the write time and I wrote this. And yes, M0ny knows they're my muse.

* * *

Helga had always known Arnold was affectionate. Seeing him with his grandparents, his daily handshake with Gerald, even the couple of times he'd randomly hugged her for finding his hat or for no reason at all. So she understood that when they started dating that he would probably insist on holding hands or the occasional public display of affection. Things she had no experience with, but if it was a part of being with Arnold, she'd deal with it.

What she didn't know was how affectionate Arnold could be if given free reign.

Their first day at school as an official couple, Arnold had hugged her in the hallway. And didn't let go of her until forced to by the tardy bell. If they were together, he was always touching her; holding her hand, linking arms, standing behind her his arms around her waist. In the two classes they had together, he sat behind her, one hand playing with her ponytail as they listened to the teacher.

In the beginning, it'd been too much for Helga, who'd had scant amounts of any sort of affection her entire life. She'd snapped more than once, demanding that he just give her some breathing room. He would apologize and back off for a couple of days but slowly it would start all over again; the hand holding, the hand brushing her shoulders, their legs touching because he was sitting way too close to her when they went somewhere.

It took a year for him to break down her defenses. A year before she accepted that as long as she and Arnold were together she could kiss the concept of personal space goodbye. A year to accept that this was what she'd signed up for, that he was a touchy, affectionate person. A year for her to realize that she was more than comfortable with being Arnold Shortman's personal pillow.

* * *

One Sunday their Senior year, they were sitting on the couch at her house. Her parents were at an electronics expo. The TV was playing a movie in the background and Helga was reading, leaned against the arm of the couch, legs stretched out across the couch and on Arnold's lap. He was close enough that her knees bent over his lap and his hands were on sock clad legs, unconsciously rubbing his fingers in circles on her calf as he finished watching the movie.

After three years she was used to it. Used to his affectionate nature; used to the hand holding, the cuddles in the hallways, his almost obsessive need to be near here when they were together. Secretly, she's gotten many a perverse satisfaction when friends and classmates had made comments regarding his overly affectionate nature. She liked how he was the one to initiate intimacy, how he, even now, played with her hair when he wasn't able to hold her hand. How he held her like if he let go she would disappear. For once in her life, she felt truly loved. She could relax and be herself around him.

Which was why, when the movie was over and he lifted her knees off of his lap, she didn't even lift her eyes from her reading. She moved her legs, bending them towards her chest.

She finally glanced up from her book when she heard him yawn and start to lean towards her. Smiling, she patted her hip. Wordlessly, he laid down between her legs, his head resting one her hip, sprawled out across the length of the couch. His arms went around her waist and with another yawn fell asleep. She moved her book enough to look down on the mess of blond hair resting in her lap. That just couldn't be comfortable. Yet, he was sound asleep.

She rested her hand on top of his head, her fingers winding through his hair gently and rhythmically. In his sleep he gave a content sigh, snuggled closer and was still.

She shook her head and went back to her book, her hand still idly stroking his hair as he slept.

If this is what love was, a lazy Sunday on the couch, then she never wanted to be without again.


	2. Sick

**20\. Who greatly exaggerates being sick every time they feel just a little poorly just so the other will take care of them?**

* * *

She heard the sneeze the minute she walked into the apartment.

The loud sounding-like-it-came-from-your-toes sneeze. The kind that always sounds painful.

The sneeze was followed by a pathetic sounding moan.

Any other time that moan would have been followed by an unseen eye roll from her. Because her beloved really was a baby when he was sick. Sher suspected there were even times he faked being sicker than he actually was just to get her to baby him.

This was not one of those times.

She knew the moment he shuffled out of the living room on his way to the kitchen that he was really sick.

"Oh sweetheart," she cooed walking towards him and blocking his way. He lifted his eyes as she approached and she got a good look at him.

Glassy eyes, red splotches on his cheeks.

She took his face in her hands, shocked at how feverish he felt. He continued to gaze at her, his look pathetic.

"I don't feel good," he muttered miserably.

She dropped her head to touch his, her gaze worried.

"You're burning up. You shouldn't be walking around."

She kissed his forehead, his skin hot on her lips and stepped away.

"Back to the couch. I'll get you some medicine and make you some soup."

He ducked his head to rest it on her shoulder. His tee shirt was sticky from fever.

"Will you stay with me?"

Smiling, she stroked his hair.

"Always. Now go lay down." She gave him a light push towards the living room. "Just remember, you get me sick bucko and you're taking care of me."

A small smile graced his feverish face.

"Always."

She worriedly watched him shuffle back to the living room with another deep sneeze.

She really did love that man.

Also, she was going to have to buy Lysol tomorrow.


	3. Compromise

**7\. Who is sleepy and cuddly all of the time?**

* * *

"It's raining."

"I'm watching Mr. Darcy."

"But I want a nap."

"I'm watching Mr. Darcy."

"Hellggaaa…"

The whine pulled her eyes from the screen. She gave him an exasperated look.

"I. Am watching. Mr. Darcy."

"You'd rather watch a fictional character than take a nap with your favorite boyfriend?"

The petulant tone was lost on her.

"In a heartbeat."

"Helllgaaaa…"

"There is a couch and my lap right here. You get a nap and cuddles, which is what I know you really want, and I get to watch Mr. Darcy. It's a win-win."

Her response got a huff but after a bit of maneuvering, his head was in her lap, looking up at her.

"Hand."

She gave him her free hand, her fingers entwining with his. He gave her a content smile and within minutes he was fast asleep.

Helga glanced down at her sleeping boyfriend while on screen Miss Elizabeth Bennet was declaring that Mr. Darcy was 'the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry.'.

 _I could,_ she thought. _Be prevailed upon should you ever asked, beloved. In a heartbeat._


	4. Shower

**AN:** This is a little more the higher end of the Teen rating. Read at your own risk

* * *

 **2\. Who constantly tries to get the other to shower with them?**

* * *

"I need a shower."

"So go take a shower."

He could feel her eyes boring into his back but he refused to lift his eyes from the grocery list he was writing.

"Arnold."

"I already took a shower."

He felt her arms slide around his check, her body pressed against his back. Her hair was down and ticking his cheek.

"Aw, come oooon…" Her pleading voice was next to his ear. He would not be moved. There was a schedule, dammit.

"No. We're hanging out with Gerald and Phoebe in an hour."

He could almost feel her pouting.

"If you do it right, we won't need an hour."

He paused in his writing and turned his head to look at her, their mouths centimeters from each other.

"If I do it right, we're gonna need more than an hour."

She pouted, her lower lip sticking out. With a dejected sigh, she kissed his cheek and moved away. He went back to making the list, mentally congratulating himself for winning today's battle of wills.

"Fine, I'll be in the shower."

Something hit the back of his head and fell across his shoulder. He pulled it from his shoulder and looked at it.

Helga's towel. The one he knew she was wearing when she came in here.

His shoulders fell, defeated. She knew exactly how to get under his defenses.

Pushing the list aside, he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hey Gerald, it's me. Can we push the meet up back an hour? Yeah, something came up."


	5. Quickies (T)

**AN:** Um...Yeah, this one might be on the HIGH end of the Teen rating. Definitely skip this one if you are uncomfortable with sexual situations.

* * *

 **6\. Who is horny all the time?**

* * *

The two couples sat across from each other at Gerald's favorite burger shack. Arnold missed spending time with his best friend but with juggling work, a home and Helga, he was just happy of the time he did get.

Helga was sitting next to him listening to Phoebe discuss her and Gerald's wedding plans. She was cuddled up next to him in the booth, his arm around her shoulder. He loved when she was willing to cuddle next to him, especially in public. He was smiling at Gerald's exuberant retelling of a nighttime pickup game he'd just trounced his older brother in when his felt Helga's hand on his thigh.

"…my Dad's yelling at us from the backyard saying we're both getting too old for these juvenile antics and Jaime-O goes down. Tripped over his own two feet." Gerald's hand mimics his older brother's face plant and Helga chuckles. Phoebe just shakes her head.

Arnold was about to make a comment when Helga's hand moved and landed right on his crotch. His eyes widened and the hand holding his water bottle clenched involuntary. She grinned at him.

"It's funny. Don't start with your moralizing, football head."

Her hand cupped his length and he swallowed hard, the hand that had been resting lightly against her shoulder now clenched into a fist.

Gerald was still talking, his hands moving excitedly as he spoke about Jaime-O's visit that past weekend. Phoebe was showing Helga the wedding planning book she'd made with all the ideas in it and Helga, still cuddled up next to him was pointing out things she liked while her other hand…

She was evil.

He couldn't move, moving would mean someone would catch on to what she was doing to him under the table. He swallowed back a moan as she stroked him through his jeans.

What the hell? They'd just had sex, in the shower, at her instance, not over an hour ago?! She could not still be horny, there was no way.

He squeezed the water bottle again when her hand tightened around his now jean clad erection and Gerald stopped in mid-sentence to give him a worried look.

"You okay man?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry. I think I'm coming down with something."

Helga looked at him, her face the picture of worried girlfriend. Her eyes however, glinted with mischievousness.

"Oh Arnold, are you okay? I'd hate for you to get sick."

She may have sounded all sweet and caring for Phoebe and Gerald's benefit, but she was still stroking him under the table. And it was getting more difficult to sit there and act normal when he was so close to coming.

She put her free hand on his forehead, frowning.

"You feel a little warm, are you sure you're okay?"

The hand on his erection stroked upwards, squeezing towards the top of his jeans and he choked, pushing Helga out of the booth.

"Be right back…gonna be…"

He stumbled out of the booth and hurried towards the bathroom, not caring how he looked. As soon as he got himself back under control, revenge was going to be his.

Helga watched him rush towards the bathroom, her face a perfect mask of worry and confusion. She looked back at her two friends, both wearing the same look.

"He was fine this morning. I'd better go check on him."

Phoebe watched her best friend follow after Arnold, waiting until the blonde disappeared around the corner. She looked at her fiancé, the worried look on her face gone.

"They aren't coming back for a bit." She said. Gerald chuckled, shaking his head.

"Was she doing what I think she was doing?"

"It's a fair assumption, yes."

"Mmmm," Gerald shook his head. "Should we wait around for them?"

"Let's give them ten minutes." Phoebe said, grinning mischievously. "Then we'll call them out."


	6. Deadlines (T)

**AN:** Sorry! Another warning! Rated High T on the scale. Skip if you're uncomfortable with sexual situations. It's gets tamer after this! Promise!

* * *

 **15\. Who wants to have sex at work/school and who is terrified at getting caught.**

* * *

Her editor read over her article, his eyes running over the words once, twice before looking up at her. She stood on the other side of his desk, nervous but trying her best to look nonchalant.

He put down the article and stared at her. Finally, he smiled.

"Great job Pataki. We'll put it under the fold."

An eyebrow raised. "Under the fold?"

"Don't get cocky Pataki. The President is in town today, you know that's automatically getting the top byline."

Helga grinned. "I'll take it. Who you got covering the speech tonight?"

"Parker is going."

Helga frowned. "I'm ten times the reporter Parker is, you know I'll get the story."

Her editor shook his head. "I'm letting Parker go. You've got the story on the alleged bribes happening between the city treasurer and the Hanson Foundation."

"The Hanson Foundation and the bribes are Shortman's territory. Why are you making me work with him?"

"Because you are very good at sniffing out corruption in the government."

Helga huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Flattery will get you almost everywhere."

"Well right now it's getting me an expose on the treasurer and the Foundation. Work with Shortman. You can work through this."

Growling under her breath, Helga left the editor's office and stormed through the busy newsroom. She thought about going back to her desk but decided against it, choosing to make her way to the city business department. The sooner she met with Shortman over the article, the sooner she could start on something new.

She pushed through the doors of the new department, halting momentarily as she spotted the blonde standing just outside a group of men laughing about something. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it one too many times. Where almost all of the other guys in his department had their shirt sleeves rolled up and ties loosened, Arnold was still impeccably dressed; long sleeves still buttoned at the wrist, tie still perfectly knotted and right at the still buttoned top button of his dress shirt.

She wanted to rumple him.

She strode through the department, several of the men catching sight of her and stepping out of her way. Helga Pataki was known for her aggressive reporting and her unwillingness to bow down to the male reporters simply for being female. There was no way she was working in Lifestyles and if she had to be named the biggest bitch of the paper to be respected, so be it.

"Shortman!" she yelled. Arnold looked up startled, a folder in his hand. She hardly ventured into the business department so he genuinely looked shocked to see her there.

"Hey. What's up?"

"I need your help with something. My editor wants me to work with you on the Foundation bribe story."

He frowned. "I…okay." He put the folder back down on his desk and met her halfway into the department. "Where do you want to talk about this?"

She looked over at his co-workers and scowled.

"Come on." Her jerked her head towards the door and turned on her heels to leave the department. He followed. They walked silently through the doors of the department and down one of the hallways. Only when there was nobody around them did she take ahold of his wrist and start pulling him down the hallway.

"Helga, where are we going?"

"Janitor's closet," she snapped, already loosening the top buttons on her blouse.

"Wait. What? NOW?!"

Before he could protest further, Helga has the door to the closet open. She pulled him into the darkened room and shut the door, locking it behind her.

"You are going to get us in so much trouble one day." He hissed as she started loosening his tie.

"You are too neat. I just want to mess you up."

Even in the semi-darkness of the room, she could see him blush.

"Helga, it's the middle of the afternoon. Someone's going to be looking for us."

She finished unbuttoning her blouse and he groaned lowly catching sight of her pink lace bra. She started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Then you'd better make it quick football head."

With another soft groan he caught her mouth, his tongue sliding over her open lips as his hands slid under her short skirt, hiking it over her hips as his fingers slid under what he knew was her matching lace panties.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Helga peeked out of the janitor's closet making sure the hallway was empty.

"Coast is clear."

Arnold peeked out and left the closet, closing the door behind him. He ran his hand through his hair once more and tried to adjust his tie. She stayed his hands.

"Don't. It just makes me want to rumple you all over again."

He smiled, his half lidded gaze turning towards her. He reached up and gently brushed her hair back from her face, smoothing it down.

"You're looking a little rumpled yourself."

She returned his grin. "If you're lucky, I can rumple you much more tonight."

"Well it's good we have an expose to work on tonight, isn't it?" Breaking their agreement, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips before walking off. "See you tonight, Pataki."

She watched him leave, still grinning. This agreement they made to not tell anyone they were actually living together was working out much better than she had ever expected.


	7. Get Up!

**10\. Who takes 10 minutes of persuading to get out of bed each morning?**

* * *

Arnold poured coffee into his mug and blew on it before taking a sip. He'd been up for an hour now and this was his third cup of coffee.

He glanced at the clock ticking softly in the kitchen, before taking another sip from his mug.

The apartment was quiet save for the ticking clock.

He took one last sip before putting the mug down and leaving the kitchen. He made his way down the short hallway to the close door at the end of the hall.

Opening the door, he peeked into the room. Helga was sprawled out on the bed, the tee shirt she slept in hitched up to bare a strip of her stomach.

"Get up." He called out. His answer came in the form of a sleep groan and Helga rolling away from him and pulling a pillow over her face.

He watched her for a moment, falling back off to sleep, before stepping further into the room.

"Helga, get up."

This time he got a muffled "go away" as a response.

He walked to the end of the bed, took hold of her wrist and tugged gently. She rolled back but her head was still covered by the pillow.

"Go away," the muffled voice said again as she tried to tug her arm free.

"Helga, sweetheart, you're going to be late for your appointment if you don't get up now." He said, ignoring the fact that the hand attached to the wrist he was holding was currently flipping him off.

"Fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off." She tugged at her arm but he wouldn't let go.

"Maybe later I will enthusiastically comply with your request, but for right now, you need to get up, get dressed and get ready to go."

"Five more minutes."

"Now Helga."

The pillow moved from her face and she glared at him.

"You're not dressed either."

"I can get dressed in five minutes. You're stalling." He tugged her arm again.

"Fine! Shut up, I'll get up."

He let go of her arm as she threw the covers off and climbed out of bed.

"See? I'm up now, are you happy?"

"Ecstatic," He took her wrist again and tugged her towards him, his other hand wrapping around her waist. His forehead touched hers.

"There's nothing to be worried about."

"Worried? Who's worried?"

He smiled.

"We're going to go to this appointment and they're going to confirm what I already know, that you're going to be a great mother."

Her face softened and she smiled.  
"Shut up, football head."


	8. Stars

**17\. Who believes in Astrology and who doesn't care and just wants the other to make out with them?**

* * *

It was a chilly night, the kind of chilly where the night was cloudless and clear. All the stars visible in the night sky.

Arnold and Helga were laying on a blanket on his roof.

"There's the Big Dipper."

Arnold's hand reached up, tracing the stars. Beside him, Helga rolled over, her head propped up on her hand watching him as he traced the stars and talked about the constellations.

"Did you ever wonder why the Ancient Greeks and Romans lived their entire lives ruled by the stars?"

He traced the rest of the stars connected to the Big Dipper that finishes Ursa Major.

"They wrote stories about them, dedicated poetry, named them after legendary heroes."

He traced another set of stars as Helga scooted closer to him to soak in some warmth.

"My grandma used to point them out to me when I was younger. We'd lay out here for hours and she'd tell me stories. Like this one," he traced a finger in a design. "It's me. Or rather my sign."

"I suppose you're going to ask me what my sign is next?" Helga asked, grinning in amusement. His cheeks were red but she couldn't tell if it was the cold or if he was blushing.

"I already know," He began tracing another pattern but was stopped by Helga's hand on his.

"You know football head, most guys who ask girls to go to their roof to look at stars usually don't have stargazing on their mind."

She leaned over him, blocking his view to the sky. Green eyes met blue, their breath mingling in the chilly night air.

Her head lowered slowly, their eyes locked on each other until right before their lips met. His lips were cold as were the fingers that caressed her jawline and neck.

She could write sonnets about the sweetness of this kiss. Epic poems revolving around stars and stolen kisses on rooftops. She understood why the scholars wrote about the stars, gave them stories. People have always tried to explain things bigger than themselves.

This…this was bigger than both of them.

They parted, their lips barely a hairsbreadth between. His eyes opened and searched hers. His mouth quirked upward and he lifted barely to catch her lips again.

The poets would sing about this night.

Later, in the warmth of her own bedroom.

But right now, she was happy to continue this particular brand of stargazing.


	9. Tickle Fight

**19\. Who is majorly ticklish and who is the tickle attacker?**

* * *

"Give me back the remote."

She stands before him, proud and unbound, wild and grinning. An Amazon on the precipice of battle. Instead of a sword, she holds the remote control for his entire room.

He loves seeing this side of Helga, the playful, mischievous side-not malicious, just fun. Two months into their relationship and he could count on one hand how many times he's been privy to this 'secret' Helga.

He holds out his hand and she dances out of his way, limber and graceful.

"Helga…" He warns. She waves the remote high above her head.

"Come and get it."

"I'm warning you, I'll bust out my secret weapon."

Her eyes widen and the hand holding the remote aloft lowers slightly.

"You wouldn't dare."

Now he grins and lifts his hands like claws.

He'd discovered her weakness two weeks into their dating when he dug his fingers into her side one night to pull her out of the way of a group of skateboarders. She yelped and jumped backwards instead.

She was ticklish.

Now she shrieks and races around the room, him in pursuit. His bedroom was large, but not large enough to escape him for long.

She feints to the left and tosses the remote to the right. The remote lands on his bed, bouncing once before it was still. He follows her, remote forgotten and gets one hand around her waist, digging in. She screams in laughter, tripping. They both tumble onto his floor in a heap, her laughing wildly, squirming under him trying to escape his fingers digging into her sides and under her arms.

He's laughing too because hearing her laugh-truly laugh-has always made him happy.

"Stop!" she finally cries out between giggles and tears of laughter rolling down her face and he stops, breathing hard and watching her closely. She lays there under him, face flushed and tear streaked, and still giggling and he's struck at how beautiful she is.

At school, at the park, at her part-time job, she always wears a mask, wary of anyone and everyone who isn't in her small group of people she trusts. But here, she's open, honest, free.

His hands hit the floor on either side of her shoulders, his legs already straddling hers from the tickle attack.

She looks up at him; chest still heaving from excitement, hair loose and in her face from her tumble, a half-smile from her last giggle now fading.

 _This,_ he thinks as he lowers his head to catch her lips in a kiss. _Is who I want to spend the rest of my life with._


	10. Bizarre Foods

**AN:** I looked it up. Apparently it smells exactly as I described it.

 **1\. Who is the fussy eater and who will eat food even if they've dropped it on the floor.**

* * *

The first thing Helga noticed when she stepped into their apartment was the smell; rotted onions mixed with turpentine with an added spray of old sweaty gym socks.

She gagged, dropping the grocery bag in her hand and raced for the windows. She threw open the closest one and shoved her head out, gasping in deeps breaths of air.

It was no use; the smell was in her throat. She could almost taste it. It was a wonder how she hadn't hurled yet.

She pulled her head back in, leaving the window open to get rid of the smell.

"Arnold!"

She followed the smell, stopping by the door where she'd dropped the bag and picked up the bag of pork rinds. She had to get that taste out of her mouth.

She found him in the kitchen eating what could only be described as small globs of fat, while reading a book.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, hurrying past him to open the windows in the kitchen. "What the hell is that and how can you eat that stuff, it stinks!"

He didn't even look up from his book as he popped another piece into his mouth.

"It's called durian and it's actually pretty good despite the smell. Don't knock it till you try it."

She retreated to the farthest end of the kitchen and ripped open the bag of pork rinds. She popped a couple into her mouth, anything to get rid of the lingering rancid taste.

"That'll never happen," she muttered, pulling out another handful. "What even possessed you to try it in the first place with that smell?!"

He bit into another piece and glanced over at her, his other finger holding his place in the book.

"Trust me, when you grow up with Grandma's cooking you learn to stop fearing food." He nodded towards the bag she held. "You've got room to talk, you're literally eating friend pork fat."

"Anything to get the rotted gym sock taste out of my mouth."

She popped a couple more into her mouth and one escaped, falling to the floor.

"Don't you dare!" he warned.

She picked the pork rind from the floor, blew on it and ate it.

"That is so gross."

"Eh, five second rule, it's fine."

"And you talk about my food. You'd better not sleepwalk tonight after eating those. I am not chasing you down the street at three am."

She gave him a grin. "Idiot, I share the same bed with you, where am I gonna sleepwalk to?"

Folding up the bag, she walked back across the kitchen, touching his shoulder as she passed.

"I'm going into the bedroom to get away from this smell. Make sure you throw that outside when you're finished and brush your teeth! I am not kissing what smells like a rotting corpse!"

Arnold watched her leave the kitchen, a half-smirk on his face, before going back to his book and his fruit.

"Whatever you say, Helga."


	11. 4 am

**AN:** This might be-could be-maybe a potentially, possibly AU maybe spoiler for anyone who has never read  Ever After. The jury is out and I'm not telling. Read at your own risk.

 **8\. Who knocks on the other's skylight (door) crying at 4 am?**

* * *

The tapping on his skylight woke him up immediately.

His eyes shot open and above him he could see the silhouette of a figure against the dark cloudy sky.

He climbed out of bed and climbed the makeshift ladder to unlatch the skylight window.

Helga almost tumbled in, caught by him at the last moment.

At first he thought it was raining until he realized it was only overcast outside, no rain, the water on her face were tears.

Silently, he helped her trembling body down until they reached the floor of his room. He pulled her to him and she fell into his arms, the tears falling quicker, heavy sobs racking her body as he held her tightly, her head tucked under his chin, his hand holding her to him, stroking her hair as she sobbed in his arms.

He wondered why she wasn't with Tad, crying into his shoulder, why she'd chose his house at four in the morning even after their fight and her declaration.

He realized he didn't care, selfishly, he was glad it was him and not Tad she'd come to seeking comfort. Her life had been shattered in one brief moment and he was the only one who understood what it meant, the only one who could comfort her.

Without breaking contact, he maneuvered them to his bed and pulled her down with him, wrapping her tighter in his arms.

Her arms were wrapped around him, her fingers clutching his tee-shirt.

"I'm here," he whispered into her hair. "I'll always be here for you."

None of it mattered at the moment; school, their fight, Lila, none of it.

There was only this moment; him and her.

Nothing else.

Her deep sobs tapered off to hiccuped mews and yet she hadn't moved. He pulled a cover over both of them and closed his eyes, still holding her tight.

* * *

 **Hey Arnold Hey Arnold Hey Arnold…**

Arnold slapped at his alarm clock and fell back onto the bed, groaning. He looked up at the skylight above him, closed and locked.

This had been the fourth night in a row he's had this dream. And each time it'd felt so real. He could almost imagine he could smell her shampoo on him.

His phone rang and he rolled back over, picking up the receiver.

"Hi sweetie," Lila's voice said on the other end. "I have to be at school early for cheer-leading so Daddy's going to take me on his way to work. Love you!"

She hung up before he could say anything. He replaced the receiver and rolled back to stare at the skylight.

There was no way his dream was anything more than that. It was just his subconscious telling him what he already knew, he missed his friend.

With a groan, he rolled out of bed, pulling off his damp tee shirt.

He was going to have to get a fan for his room, he was sweating way too much while he slept.


	12. Excited

AN: M0ny was back at it again last week with expressions drawn into characters. I stumbled upon them and was once again inspired by my muse.

This one was Helga getting excited.

* * *

It wasn't until she was the lights of Madison Square Garden that she truly began to get excited.

He'd seen her giddy, happy, even laughing in delight before but until this moment he'd never seen her truly excited.

She clutched at his arm, her feet stalling for only half a moment.

"Is that…is that where we're going?"

From his pocket, he produced two tickets to WrestleMania.

"Yep."

She took the proffered tickets, scanning the face, her eyes widening as she read the seating assignment.

"Front row? Criminy Arnold, front row?" She stared at him, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. "How did you get front row?"

He shrugged smiling now. Her excitement was contagious.

"I know a guy. He got them from a client, asked me if I wanted them."

Helga let out the girliest scream he'd ever heard from her and flung her arms around his neck. Laughing, he held onto her waist to make sure they didn't take a tumble.

"I love you!" she exclaimed. "This is the best present ever!"

He wasn't a fan of wrestling; the brutality was something he usually enjoyed.

But standing there in the front row, watching Helga scream at the wrestlers, cheer loudly and actually jump up and down clapping and laughing and looking more like an excited fan girl than he'd ever seen, he thought he'd sit through anything if he could ever see this again. Helga Pataki, truly excited. He'd never seen her look more beautiful.

And at that moment, he'd never loved her more.


	13. Secrets

**AN:** Another one. This one had two expressions. Arnold blowing kisses and Helga pretty much swooning. This fic came about from those pictures. Because, again, my muse is awesome!

* * *

Secret relationship were supposed to be secret for a reason.

So nobody else knew about them save the two people actually in the relationship.

Helga Pataki was perfectly fine with a secret relationship. Having been in love with Arnold since age three and keeping it a secret from pretty much everyone, actually keeping the secret regarding them actually (FINALLY) in a relationship was no skin off her nose at all.

Or rather, it wouldn't be, if the little twerp would stop doing things to jeopardize the "secret" part.

On their way to recess, she was listing to Phoebe talk about her upcoming visit from her maternal grandparents. Neither set of grandparents ever left their hometown or village so Phoebe was understandably nervous. She was nodding in the appropriate places and wondering what was for lunch when she happened to glance around at her classmates.

As she caught Arnold's eye, the boy in question actually blew her a kiss.

Her mind went blank.

Her face went slack, and she blinked twice uncomprehendingly.

Then, he winked.

Immediately her heart slammed against her ribcage, her chest felt tight-too tight for the amount of emotions that were threatening to burst out right there. She wanted to blush, to swoon, to smile goofily back at him, all evidence of how much she adored this insane kid written on her face for the whole of PS118 to see.

Instead, she made a face. He blew another kiss.

Her breath caught. She could feel the words rising in her throat, choking her.

"Sorry Pheobs," She heard herself say. "Gotta run to the bathroom."

She tore out of line racing the complete opposite way of the bathroom, hit the door that led to the outside playground with a force that sent the door slamming against the walls and raced around the large recycle bin. She slammed her back against the wall, not feeling the concrete dig into her shoulder blades and let out a giggle.

She knew her face looked ridiculous right now, she could practically feel the giddiness evident in her crinkled cheeks and her mouth that hurt from smiling way too wide. Her hands clutched the locket still hidden under her shirt as she half slid down the side of the school.

"Ohhhh," she sighed. "My cornflower hair Lothario, how you tempt me in these cruel hallways of education. Must you continue to be so wicked to me, to torment my heart? But oh, how I adore it."

Heaving a huge sigh, she closed her eyes, allowing the smile to remain on her face for just a moment longer.

"Get lost?"

Her eyes shot open, and she jumped.

Arnold leaned against the recycle bin, arms crossed across his chest watching her.

"I offered to go find you when Phoebe realized you went the complete other way of the bathroom," he said by way of explanation. "She's afraid you might be sick."

She scowled. "Well, aren't you just the knight in shining armor."

He grinned. "I don't know, I could be."

Pushing off the bin, he took a step towards her.

"So. You sick?"

"I just needed a moment, what's it to you?"

He took another step.

"I'd hate for you to get sick."

Another step.

"Just doing my good deed for the day."

He was right in front of her, his arms now behind his back.

"You're a regular saint."

He grinned, his eyes lowering slightly. "I thought I was your cornflower hair Lothario."

Words froze in her throat. He took that moment to place an awkward kiss on her lips. Chaste, quick and so sweet.

His cheeks were pink when he looked at her again.

"I'll tell Phoebe you were dizzy and needed fresh air. Come over to the swings when you're ready."

With that, he was gone.

Air rushed back to her lungs. Her wobbly legs finally gave out on her and she slid down onto the blacktop.

Dear God, she loved having this secret.


End file.
